The picture above is to show what James and Victoria look like twenty-one years later. 

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September 3, 1939

It had been twenty-one years since the Great War had ended. James's PTSD had only gotten worse. His strangling of Victoria in her sleep had stopped...only after he had moved to the guest room. That had been their biggest fight. James had said that he didn't want to hurt her anymore, and Victoria had said that she refused to sleep without him. The fight had ended with James storming out, going to the guest room, and slamming the door shut. He hadn't been in their- now Victoria's- bedroom since. They had never apologized to each other, and they weren't the same around one another anymore.

Victoria came downstairs first, along with an old and slow Bailey. She let him out and then picked up the paper. Once Bailey came back inside, Victoria sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the headline of the paper. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

Britain Declares War Against Germany Over Poland

Victoria scanned over the article. France and New Zealand had also declared war on Germany. Victoria sighed. It looked like there was going to be another war. And so soon after the Great War had ended, too. How long would this one last, and what would the cost be? She decided that she didn't want to think about it anymore and set the paper down on James's armchair. She began to make breakfast for herself and James.

A little while later, James came down the stairs. Bailey, with difficultly, stood up and walked over to Victoria. He stood in front of her protectively. Victoria put a hand on Bailey's back to steady him. He did this every morning when James got up. Ever since he had started strangling Victoria in his sleep, Bailey hadn't trusted him.

"Good morning, James," Victoria said, glancing at him sideways from her cooking.

"Good morning, Victoria," James said. He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Take a look at the front page of the paper," Victoria said.

"Why? What's so- Oohhh..." James said, understanding as he read the headline. "How can we go back to war so soon?"

"I don't know," Victoria said.

"Maybe I should sign up..." James said thoughtfully.

"No," Victoria said firmly. "I refuse to let you go off to war again."

"But, darling-"

"Don't 'But, darling' me. I don't care if the bloody king and queen come to our doorstep and threaten to kill me, you are not going off to fight the Germans again," Victoria said.

"Alright, love. Alright," James sighed.

Victoria gave an agitated huff and turned back to her cooking. She had nearly burned the eggs she had been cooking, but found that she didn't care. It wasn't like she was going to eat them anyways. She had eaten a bowl of fruit earlier. When James's breakfast was finished, Victoria set it down in front of him.

"They're burnt," James said.

"Then make your own damn eggs," Victoria said.

"You know, that's not what an apology sounds like," James said.

"Bite me," Victoria's head snapped to James, her eyes fiery. James sighed.

"What happened to us?" he asked.

"A war happened, James," Victoria stated the fact as if it was plain as day.

"I thought that a war would have brought us closer together," James said.

"So did I," Victoria said. "But apparently I was wrong."

"I'm sorry," James said.

"Why on earth are you sorry, darling?" Victoria asked. "It's me who should be apologizing. It's not you're fault that I'm still not used to how changed you are."

"What do you mean?" James asked, tilting his head.

"When you left for war, you were playful and happy," Victoria said. "After you came back, you were so serious."

"I see. When I came back, you expected to have a frisky young man by your side again," James nodded, understanding. "Not a wounded soldier with PTSD."

"The PTSD isn't your fault at all," Victoria assured.

"You just kind of acted like it is," James said, giving Victoria an annoyed look.

"I'm sorry, it came out wrong," Victoria apologized.

"Sure, just keep telling me that," James said. Victoria fought not to slam her hands down on the counter (mostly because of her husband's PTSD) and lecture James. "I'm not the one who had an affair with a farmhand while their spouse was gone." That did it. Victoria's head snapped to James. She looked furious, but it didn't faze him. "Oh, I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

"I've already told you about five thousand times, I wasn't having an affair with him," she hissed. "I turned him down because I was committed to you."

"You could be lying," James shrugged, looking back at the newspaper.

"Why are you such a bastard lately?" Victoria asked. "You act as if you're the only soldier in the world who struggled in the war! I hate to break it to you, but you aren't! I've cared for you, sympathized with you, cried with you, I waited for four bloody years for you to come home. I didn't know if you were dead or alive. Do you how agonizing that was for me? Do you know how many nights I either cried myself to sleep or stayed awake wondering if you were dead?" Victoria inched her face closer to James's with every sentence. James's face was red with anger and he slowly stood up.

"You want to know why I'm acting the way I am? Fine," James's voice was just barely a whisper. "I watched my one of my best friends die in front of me. I had to eat disgusting, rotten food that I don't even think was food. I had to walk miles for days and didn't get any breaks. I had to pull giant canons, too. It hurt like hell and I think it's permanently damaged my back. Every single night, I have nightmares about what they did to my companions and me. The only reminders of home was the picture of you I had and your one letter that you sent me. Every day I woke up thinking that it would be my last day alive. So, I'm sorry, Vic, if I don't live up to your standards but it's because I've seen and experienced things no person should ever have to. If you can't deal with that, then leave."

James sat back down and opened the paper. He ran his hand over his hair in an attempt to calm himself. Victoria stormed out of the room, Bailey loyally going with her. She went to the library and sat down in her chair, letting out a heavy sigh. Bailey put his head on her knee and whined. Victoria smiled at him and stroked his head. She knew she should apologize to James. She hadn't known that he had nightmares every night. She had never heard him cry out. But she usually was the one to apologize after they had fights. It was his turn.

James sat at the table, looking at the paper but not reading it. He was too angry to focus. How dare Victoria act like she had suffered more than him? He was definitely the one who had suffered the most. When he thought about it, though, Victoria had gone through one of the most painful things a wife can go through: not know if her husband will ever come home again. He sighed as he put his face in his hand. He shouldn't have gotten angry at her. He had been a jerk lately. It wasn't Victoria's fault that she'd gotten fed up. Any person would snap after being treated like a doormat for twenty-one years. He should apologize. Not now, but soon.

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September 7, 1940

Victoria was laying in bed and reading a book with Bailey sleeping by her side. Just as she was beginning to drop off, she heard a sound that she hadn't heard in twenty-two years.

The sirens.

Victoria knew all too well what the sirens meant. They meant that bombs were going to be dropped by the Germans' planes, which meant death. Victoria got up and threw her dressing gown on before turning off the lamp and calling Bailey to her. He got up and followed her to James's room. She opened the door and shook her husband awake. He flew up and grabbed her wrist. When he saw who it was, he let go.

"Oh, Victoria, it's just you," he breathed a sigh of relief. When he heard the sirens, however, his relief vanished as he quietly asked, "What's that?"

"There's an air raid going on. We need to get down to the cellar," Victoria said. "Come on."

James nodded and got up. He followed his wife downstairs and to the cellar. Victoria opened the door and let Bailey and James in first before shutting and locking them in. She turned the light on and led James to the safest corner. When Victoria saw all of the blankets that she'd never bothered to bring up, she was brought back twenty-two years to when she had sat in the cellar with only Bailey, just waiting for the bombs to drop.

James sat down in the corner and chuckled a little when he saw that Victoria had a picture of him down here. He held it up and raised his eyebrows. Victoria gave him a look and a playful shove before sitting down beside him. Bailey assumed a protective position at her side. Silence ensued.

After ten minutes, Victoria spoke. "The worst part is the waiting."

"It's also pretty bad to witness the planes leaving and the bombs being launched," James murmured.

Victoria gave him a sympathetic smile. Not long after this exchange, Victoria heard what assumed was the first bomb. The shelves around them shook. Victoria's head turned when she heard James's breathing begin to get quick and uneven. He was shaking uncontrollably and sweating, and he looked more scared than Victoria had ever seen him. She gently took his hand and started to rub soothing circles on it. When that didn't work, Victoria pulled her husband to her and rubbed his back gently. She knew that James needed help to get through this.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here," Victoria said. "Do you hear my heartbeat? Focus on that, darling. Just breathe. No one can hurt you now. You're not with the Germans. You're here with me. You're okay, we're okay. I'll protect you no matter what."

The bombs continued for hours, along with James's panic attack. Victoria tried to help him through it as much as she was able to. All she could do was murmur words of comfort and rub James's back. He was rambling on an on about how scared he was, and that this reminded him of the war. Victoria was nearly crying. This was the most emotion that her husband had showed in the twenty-two years he'd been home since the war, and it was about how afraid he was. The only reason she didn't cry was because she knew that if she panicked it would cause James to panic even more. 

Finally, the sirens let out an all clear, making Victoria let out a relieved sigh. She knew James's panic was far from over, though. They continued to sit in the darkness while Victoria held James in her arms gently.

"It's over, James, it's over," Victoria said. "It's all okay now. We're safe, see? I told you we'd be okay. Just focus on my voice, sweetheart. You aren't back in that terrible camp. You won't ever have to go back to war if you don't want to."

Fifteen minutes after the all clear had been given, James's breathing finally went back to normal. He laid in Victoria's arms for five more minutes until he was sure he wasn't going to throw up before sitting up. He couldn't bring himself to look at Victoria. He felt so ashamed. 

"Are you alright?" Victoria asked. 

"Yes, I am," James nodded his head, his eyes closed. "Thank you."

"Of course," Victoria said. "Do you want to go back upstairs or would you like to stay here for a little longer."

"Just a little longer," James said.

"Okay. I promise I won't leave," Victoria said.

She and James sat in silence in the darkness for about ten more minutes before James said that he thought he could go back upstairs. Victoria gently took his arm and led him and Bailey upstairs. They went up to their rooms. Victoria stopped walking when James gently caught her hand.

"Can I come back?" he asked. Victoria gave him a smile and nodded.

"Of course, love," she said. 

Victoria and James went into their room and curled up together in bed for the first time in twenty-two years. Bailey hopped up and curled up at the foot of the bed, eyeing James wearily. Victoria placed her head against James.

"I love you, James," she said. 

"I love you too, darling," James said. 

"Don't ever make me sleep on my own again," Victoria commanded. James smiled.

"Okay. I won't," he said.

"Do you promise?" Victoria asked, turning slightly so she could look up at her husband. James lowered his head to place a kiss to the top of his wife's head.

"I promise."

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I hope I dealt with the panic attack part okay. I kind of know what to do when someone has a panic attack (telling them to breathe, take deep breaths, ect.). I won't go into detail about why I have experience, though. 

So, yay for this finally being done! My babies are happy. You guys have no idea how long I had to look for the exact date the bombing of England started. That's why it took me so long to get this done. But hey, it's done. Now time to go write a Doctor Strange fanfiction.